L'ange d'Amore
by Mademoiselle Bree
Summary: ON A TEMPORARY HIATUS! The end is only the beginning... what happens after the curtain has fallen, after the words have run out? Will Erik be able to find love in another? E/M semi-dark. Webber with some Kay/Leroux elements mixed in.
1. An Odd Discovery

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera**

Slowly and gently I bent down. I was almost in a trance. This single white half-mask I stumbled upon probed everything I had at first doubted. There really was a Phantom of the Opera after all.

I heard the echo of feet on stone and knew that the mob had fallowed me here, came to hunt down the character known as the Phantom, wherever he was. Christine and Raoul had made it away safely, yet… where was this man? Was it possible he just… disappeared? Christine had told me he was truly a man, though. He couldn't be far from here.

Sticking the mask under my white, flowing shirt for safekeeping, I left to examine the rest of this strange, dream-like place. I didn't quite know what to make of it. It was beautiful, yet terrifying at the same time.

I went back to the entrance from the lake and noticed a lot of shattered glass – more glass than there were mirrors. And there was blood around and on the shards, as if the person standing there had too been damaged by their sharp, dagger-like edges. The thing that stood out to me most was a drawn red curtain – almost as if concealing something.

I looked around to make sure no one was around and they weren't – they were all too busy exploring the other rooms. I pulled back the curtain and entered a dark hallway. There was a heavy, gloomy feeling throughout and it was very damp.

I used my hands to feel along the wall and let my feet graze the ground lightly so I did not miss anything. Then my foot hit something hard and I fell – right on top of a body. I was smart enough to hold back my horrified shriek.

I gently felt the body. It was obviously a man well dressed in a fancy suit. I felt his face and did let out a slight shriek. It was wrinkled on one side and smooth on the other. It was the Phantom.

I held two fingers to the base of his neck to make sure that he still had a heart beat and was further horrified. He had one, a strong one, but he was cold as death itself!

I gently patted his face, trying to awake him. After about fifteen minutes of this, I knew I had succeeded when I heard a gasping sort of sop, and felt it wretch his entire body with a misery more than I had ever felt in my whole life.

"Christine…" was the one word mumbled from his lips. Once I heard his voice I knew why Christine had kept returning to him. It was so sad and melancholy, yet had so much incredible power in the two, quietly muttered syllables.

"E… Erik? Erik, I'm Meg. I need you to stand up if you can and come with me… I'm here to help you," I had quickly changed from wanting to hunt him down and murder him to wanting to save him, give him life of any sort.

"My m.. m.. mask," he stuttered weakly. I held out the white thing I had and watched him place it over half of his face. Everything was gone from that so powerful voice, it was so empty and hopeless… almost as if he wanted to die now. I helped him to his feet and paced his arm across my shoulders so I could help to support him as we began to walk towards the end of the tunnel to the street.


	2. The Begining

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera in any way, shape, or form. Nor do I own any lyrics or titles within the story, except for the story title, unless otherwise stated by me.**

_**I'm sorry I've seemed to hit a bit of a writer's block, and I truly hope that you enjoy this bit of story. If it seems a little forced, I'm sorry. I'm trying to improve on style and imagery, so please R&R, but no flamers please!**_

Slowly and silently I led him through the back streets of Paris – though it became a difficult task when he began to slow. Knowing he knew not where he was going, nor who he was with, nor what was going to happen when he got there, I knew that he did not care. He only wanted to escape the dreadful place where he last saw Christine, though I did not yet know how deep his feelings were for her until we had finally reached my mother's home and I helped him to lie on the hard mattress – the best one that we had, honestly. It was mine.

"Christine," he had said, barely audibly. "Christine," it turned into a sort of moan of chant, repeated louder and louder with every time, until finally it became a normal speaking tone, to where I did not strain to hear him.

"She is gone," I stated blandly, not knowing quite what to do, yet knowing that even those words were too horrible to speak to him. His voice held a sort of life when he spoke her name – a life which I had not heard in him before. He had become less breathless and irritable sounding.

"She… she said yes… I…" he seemed to be very confused, as if the last few hours held no residence within his memory.

"You let her go. You are a good man, the best. And by leasing her, you have made her a very happy woman with the viscount," it was hard to speak these things to such an obviously broken man. How could she have left him like this? Left him to die? She must have know she was the only thing he lived for… Christine was her friend, but she couldn't believe such a heartless act was committed by the same sweet and innocent girl she had known since such a young age.

He, seeming satisfied with my half-hearted reply, rested back on the pillow. He was asleep within a few moments, upon which time I left the room. I was intent on finding my mother for assistance in tending to the physical wounds he had suffered. Though from this short conversation – if it can even be called such – that those were the least of his worries, and he seemed as though he would rather die than be saved.

"Mother," I called quietly, learning soon that it was not a needed call, for within seconds she had rounded the corner and taken me into a hard embrace, though pulling back quickly.

"I am so glad that you are okay, Marguerite. I had thought… well," she noticed the strange look on my face, and I wanted so badly to tell her what had occurred. "What have you done?"

Her question was well warranted. "I… well, perhaps it would be better to show you than to tell you, mother." I took her hand and led her to my bedside to look down at the poor Phantom who now lay there. She let out a gasp of "Erik!" and I found myself shocked to know that my mother could so easily recognize the figure, and still further shocked when I realized that it had been and exclamation of relief rather than of shock or reprimand.

"Mother, I could not leave him there, alone and unconscious to be killed," she looked at me, mouth slightly open and a confused look upon those normally so hard features. "He… he needs our help. He has wounds that need to be cleaned and bandaged, and I know you know more of that than I do. Please, please help me."

"And what do you care of him?" my mother's reply was completely unexpected, and very harsh to my ears.

"He… he is a human being. I cannot let him suffer so, though I know he will suffer for a while… anything would have been better than leaving him to die." Truth be told, I had no idea why I had brought him back here, nor why I cared to care for him. It was all so strange to me.

"You do not know Erik. Very well, come, fetch the bandages and a pitcher of water. Heat the water over the fire till it is warm to the touch," she stated plainly, while walking forward and rolling up his sleeves and pant legs to assess the damage.

I did as she asked, and returned as quickly as possible. When I returned to the room, my mother took the supplies and began her work with expert hands, finishing quicker than I would have been able to begin.

She then instructed me to make a soup and a tea to place bedside, in case he was to awake and we did not know.

I again did as asked and settled down on a chair by the warmth of the fireplace in my room to begin a book and one of the longest and strangest nights of my life.


	3. Nighttime

_**Disclaimer: I do not own PoTo. Though we all wish we owned Erik…. (:**_

At first, all was calm.

The light from the fireplace did, however, send strange flickers around the room, casting odd and frightening shadows that appeared to be more than they were. I found it much too hard to concentrate on my novel, so I instead tossed it aside and fell into a very light sleep. More like a nap than any form of actual sleep. The kind that you can still feel and hear everything, yet you are asleep. And when you wake, you feel worse than you did when you went to sleep in the first place.

I believe I slept about an hour, uninterrupted, until I heard tossing begin from upon the bed. Upon further investigation, I found that the Phantom had begun to turn rapidly while beads of sweat formed on his already-frightening face. He was having a nightmare. I contemplated waking him when he stilled and let out a weak moan of only one word, "Christine." As if it wasn't expected. I knew that tonight was going to be a difficult one from the beginning. How could it not be? The Phantom of the Opera was asleep in my bed, for God sake! How Sorelli would never believe this! But no, no one could know. Because we could all meet with tragedy, and not him alone.

After listening to this moan a few more antagonizing times, I decided it was time to awake him. Shaking his arm lightly proved to work; luckily he did not lash out and try to hit me as I had expected from a man such as him. Instead, he looked around, as though confused. He showed no emotion upon his wretched face, only horror and disdain. He let out a sort of moan that would make a dying animal sound like a chorus from heaven above, perhaps even God himself. How that beautiful voice could be altered so horribly.

"Erik… Erik?" I was attempting to wake him from his painful rest, yet not succeeding. Perhaps I should just let him wait it out. Rest until he awoke himself. As horrid as it sounded, perhaps it was better to just let him bask in his agony… better than getting myself hurt, at least.

Such thoughts flowed through my mind, that is, until he decided it would be wise to rise. I think he overcompensated, for almost as instantly as his feet hit the ground, his face did as well. He made no other noise, except the 'thud' of the wood underneath his obviously feather-weighted body. He did not attempt to rise. He only lay in a pitiful heap on the floor. And it frightened me. How could a man so strong, so feared, be so weak?

I slipped my arms through his, and found him much heavier than he looked. However, I managed to struggle with him, and succeeded in placing him upon the mattress. That's when it happened.

He looked at me. Green eyed… with golden flecks… his they seemed to glow with unforgiving light in the darkness of the room. Yet such gorgeous eyes, all they shone with was tortured hatred. His weak voice finally spoke with intelligible words.

"Why can't you just let me die?" his voice was a rasp. It sounded painful – dehydrated. "Why did you find me? God is such a cruel beast."

I found that I could not reply. Not immediately, anyway.

"Come now, I know who you are, Meg Giry, and you are not one to remain silent. Little gossiping ballet rat… why did you even bother to bring me here? Oh, how overjoyed your mother must be."

"I… I couldn't just let you… die there…" the words were, for some reason, hard to force out.

"Why? A beast such as me deserves that fate, no doubt." The words were spoken with no emotion. And it caused my heart to wretch… how much I wanted him to just fall back to sleep! I did not know the answers to the questions he asked. To feel pity for the Opera Ghost.

"You are a man." I had no idea what else would be suitable to say. Though he only snorted with a sick, angry sort of laugh, and looked the other way.

For the rest of the night, he refused to speak to me. He wouldn't even look at me.

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Ugh. I'm sorry, this isn't my best work – please forgive me. I just could not find the inspiration for this chapter. I'm not going to promise anything, but I'll try to make the next chapter extra long. I promise it will get better!**

**And now, I'm going to beg pitifully for reviews. Please, please, please review??**


	4. Confusion

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Poto, nor the characters… please don't sue me!! (:**

When morning finally arrived, I felt an ache in my neck from the arm of the chair. It took me a moment to recollect WHY in fact I was sleeping in an armchair, but it came back as my gaze lingered on the skeletal form on my mattress. He looked so strange in the soft morning light that was seeping through my thin curtains. Almost… peaceful.

Even after his display of weakness yesterday, he looked powerful and strong. He was defiantly tall, though he was lying I could tell that much. A good foot taller than I, at least.

By the steady rise and fall of his thin chest I could tell that he had finally found rest. I sat calmly, examining him for a while, before I heard the door crack open.

My mother entered, carrying two small trays of food. One, she handed to me with a light, sympathetic sort of smile. The other, she placed on the bedside table, obviously hopeful he would take at least a few small bites. She then came and knelt by me.

"Meg, I am sorry to tell you that I have to leave. It will be for a few weeks. I know you can handle this… please, tread carefully. Loretta will be off for that time, as I am hopeful she will not discover Erik." Loretta was our maid, and it made me a little uneasy knowing that I would be left alone with him.

I was fearful, but had no objectives that would truly make her change her mind. So within a few moments she had gathered her things and summoned herself a carriage.

After finding I wasn't very hungry, I took care of my own dishes deciding it was time to begin my day. I started out by stretching in our ballet dedicated room. I did a few spins, making sure I was limber enough to do actual work. I knew it was pointless, but I felt a need to practice our opera in production.

About half an hour later I decided I should check on the Phantom. I found him with his mask on, fully covering his face. He was staring off at the wall, no doubt dreaming of Christine. He held one hand over his heart, the other barely touching the edge of his mask. The tray of food sat next to him, completely untouched.

"Monsieur? " I almost didn't want him to respond. But he quickly pulled out of his dreaming, looking toward me with unmeasured hatred, though I had no idea what I had done to deserve it.

He continued to glare at me, waiting for me to speak. "You should really try to eat." I had forgotten what I had come in for at the moment, his glare causing me to lose all thoughts except my desire to turn and run, as was my natural instinct in most cases. I never had been one to stand and fight.

In this instance, however, I chose to stand my ground. Probably a bad choice on my part.

"Leave me, little ballet rat!" he had finally broken his cold silence. I made the mistake of giving a half a smile at his words. It happened faster than my mind could register it. His arm shot over, grabbed a glass bowl, and threw it at me, just barely missing my head.

I let out a scream and jumped away. It was, perhaps, one of my closest calls.

"LEAVE!!" he raged, with no forgiveness in his voice. I decided it was best to listen this time. I didn't want to have glass embedded in my face for the rest of my life.

I closed the door behind me as fast as I could, and sank to the ground with my back to it, holding my poor racing heart, bidding it to calm. Then I heard a whimpering cry from inside the room. I wanted to go back in, but I wasn't sure that it would be a good idea. But the crying. It hurt my own heart, wretched it… it was as if it were an angel crying, and not that pitiful, deformed man.

I opened the door as slowly as I could, trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice me. He laid on the bed, curled over onto his side, his hands covering his face, as he had taken his mask off. His body shook with his sobs. I made my way to the bed, stopping at the side.

When I lay a hand on his back, he started.

"Leave," was his pitiful request. I couldn't follow it though. I truly am a stupid, stupid girl.

He turned and looked at me, removing his hands.

The face… it was so much different to see it in the sunlight and not the darkness he was so often in… I took a step back from him and fell to the floor, letting out a gasp that was more of a scream. He just looked at me, watched it all, and let out a small, maniacal laugh. I just stared back into his menacing eyes.

"NOW leave!" he was quite intent on being left alone for whatever reason, unknown to me.

I just stood, and went back to the edge of the bed. His emotion wasn't as easily hidden without the mask, and it shone in his eyes. It was a mixture of things, really, but he wasn't angry. Not truly angry, at least. There was fear and sadness. I reached out and lay my hand as light as a feather upon his arm.

He just looked up at me, questioning and pleading in his eyes, though he would probably never admit it. What was I doing? Even to this day I do not know. My hand traveled upward, almost to his face before he caught my wrist in his strong hand, restraining me.

He just continued to stare at me for a moment before his eyes wandered to the hand that he held so tightly. He released it and gave me a gentle shove towards the door.

"Leave," he rasped out. When the door closed behind me, I heard him gently question. "Why, God, why? Have you not tortured me enough? What is this sick pleasure you get from my pain?"

I had no idea what he meant by this, but I decided it was best not to question. I made my way to the library on shaky legs, welcoming the release of sleep when I finally fell onto the loveseat.

**A/N: Sorry it took me so long. Now is where I give you my lame excuse: A lots been going on with me since I went to this church camp… it was great, then I came home and had a ton of tests. Between that, church, and independent Bible study, I really didn't have much time. I'm sorry!!!!**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was fun to write at the very least.**

**Now, I pitifully beg for reviews once again…. Pleaseeee???**

**I'll try not to be so long with my next update(:**

**Reviews do tend to make me want to write more… they really do speed me up. Just sayin.**


	5. The True Beginning

The days set into a monotone and boring routine. I would bring him food, and he wouldn't eat it. Then I would take the plates after letting them sit a few hours, hoping he would at least eat a forkful. But he never did. Out loud I said I hoped he would starve. Inside, I silently worried for him. I wasn't putting up with this insufferable man for him to just die. He may be stubborn, but I was too. If I had to force-feed him, I would.

Of course, I decided this as I was preparing him a dinner. It was not even as though my meals were hard to eat. I always made either some kind of porridge or a broth. I always added things to the broth to make it more kind to the tongue, such as carrots or bits of chicken. Personally, I thought it was delicious. But, he might have a forager's tongue.

With that thought, I tasted the broth. Deciding it was done, I pulled it off of the small modernized stove and poured it carefully into a medium-sized bowl. It was hot to the touch, and I was careful not to spill it while carrying it to the bed-room, though I didn't succeed, managing to splash a little bit on the floor and burn my thumb. I grimaced and continued on.

I managed to get into the room and place it on the bedside table before noticing that Erik was not there. I was utterly confused and stood there for a moment before coming to my senses and going to search for him.

It seemed as though he had disappeared into thin air. I couldn't find him anywhere – not in the ballet practice room with the piano, not the library, not the kitchen, not even the sitting room. Just when I began to panic, I heard something behind me. I turned as quickly as I could to find Erik standing only a few steps behind me. When I stepped back in fear, he let out a cold chuckle.

"Thank you, Mlle. Giry, but as you see I am well enough to be on my way. I shall be… forever _indebted _to you," he spoke so smoothly that I almost missed the sarcasm within his voice. I felt a sudden… determination. No, he would not leave now if I had anything to do with it. He most certainly was not well yet, and his bandages needed changing. I could see a small red line seeping through the one on his left hand.

"You very well are not. Come, I need to change your bandages." He pulled back and shook his head in disagreement, but didn't voice any protests.

I reached out and clutched his elbow, pulling him behind me back to my bedroom, and pushing him down on the bed.

"Please, mademoiselle, I am fully capable of caring for my own needs." He was wearily watching me gather up the supplies I needed.

"Would you stop being so difficult for one damn second?!" I was surprised at my own words, but I was so tired of battling him. Why did everything have to be a fight? Was he really that difficult? The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself… "No wonder Christine left you like she did."

His entire mood switched on a second. "Mademoiselle, I would advise you not to speak on such subjects that you have no knowledge on."

I found that I regretted my words as soon as they were out of my mouth – I couldn't take them back, because they had been true. But it had been unnecessarily cruel to the poor man. As infuriating as he was, I couldn't help but pity him. I decided my best option would be to say nothing at all. So I worked in silence.

He seemed to be brooding when I was finished, and I was going to leave, but something was compelling me to say the words on the tip of my tongue.

"Erik… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." I had bowed my head down and was looking shamefully at the floor. I was met with a cold silence and the meaning was clear.

When I looked up at him, I found that I was looking straight into his eyes. His look immediately changed back to his cold, barely civil demeanor as he put me under his harsh scrutiny. I found I couldn't move… or didn't want to. I let him study me closely, even through the awkwardness.

Finally, as if deciding that I had been true, he gave a sad little smile, barely even the upturning of the corners of his lips, and said "Of course."

**A/N: I'm soooo sorry. I really have no excuse for taking so long. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It just came to me out of nowhere, really. Ok…. Ready? My goal for reviews is 4. Not many, but I really haven't been getting many and I'm very disappointed. If you like it, review. If you don't, review and tell me why. It's not gonna get any better if you don't.**

**Thank you to everyone who did (or has left a) review! And I apologize to anyone I didn't respond to… I'm very bad at that… but know that your reviews are extremely appreciated!**


	6. The Deal

We spoke barely a word to each other since that night. There was no need to: everything had come out. I was generally afraid that if I spoke again it would only be to insult or hurt him. As insufferable as the man was, he was equally as intriguing. For whatever the reason may be, I was afraid that by hurting him I would only push him to leave, which was something he could do now that his health had recovered sufficiently.

I don't really know what caused me to think this way – it was all very strange, therefore I don't really think it needs an explanation. How many people could say they found the Opera Ghost half dead and nursed him back to health in their very own home? I was the only one, as far as I could tell.

However, one think I did know for sure was that he would have to leave Paris soon. How long would it be before the gendarmerie found him and arrested us both? I knew how dangerous it was to harbor a fugitive. Especially one so sought after. But I couldn't let him know the fears that gripped me – he might leave me. No, I knew he would leave me. It was not a question, but rather a reality. Yet, there was no option. He had to leave, and soon. Preferably leave France all together, go to a different country – a different continent, even! He could not run far enough.

The other fear that gripped at me and seemed to squeeze my lungs with a mighty force whenever I thought it was what would happen to him. Would he go out and start over? Would he be treated as cruelly as he had been here? Would he be able to survive? Of course he would, he was the Phantom of the Opera. He had made it this far, had he not? My mother had told me the story of the boy in the gypsy camp, and I knew beyond a doubt that Erik was who she spoke of.

I knew that I would eventually have to face these fears. I knew he would not stay put for much longer. He was growing more and more restless day by day. The only uncertainty was how long it would take before he finally left. Would I just wake up one morning and he would be gone? Or would he actually say goodbye? Even after the week and a half of caring exclusively for him, I had no answer to these questions that seemed to plague my ever busy mind. They seemed to have no answer and lead to a thousand others.

I had somehow become a prisoner of my own mind and house. You see, whether he meant to or not, Erik ruled over me. I don't think I even realized it until recently. Somehow he had a grip over me, a power that demanded everything and nothing at the same time.

He still let me change his bandages, though it was obvious he could do it on his own. I do not think that he dared to argue after that night – I don't think he wanted to hear more of the insults that came with my fighting. I really did have too slippery of a tongue.

The fears that seemed to plague me every waking moment were finally brought to words the eve before my mother's return.

Erik came to me as I reclined on the couch of the library. I had just gotten into my book when he decided to clear his throat, causing me to jump slightly out of shock and be sucked back into the real world quite rudely.

He smiled a sad sort of smile – the only type I had ever seen from him, and kept a good five feet away from me. I knew it was coming because he would not look at me, avoiding my eyes as much as he could.

"Mlle. Giry, I thank you for all you have done, but I should be on my way now… I've been nothing but a burden and we both know that if the gendarmerie find me here, we shall both be hanged in a sense. I suspect you are ready to be rid of me anyway…" he stopped here, finally looking me in the face.

I was silent, just looking at him expectantly. I knew he would eventually continue on or flee. Luckily it was not the latter.

He took a deep breath, looked at the floor, then raised his eyes to me. He had a cold and distant look in his eyes, as if he had to clear his emotions.

"It has been a pleasure being in your company, mademoiselle, but I must be on my way. Farewell."

I rose to my feet to fallow him, hoping for something to come to mind, anything to stop him from leaving. I had a need to stay near him, though why I'm not sure.

Reaching out, I caught his hand just before he reached the door. He turned, and just stared at our touching hands.

"Please, I'm sure my mother wants to see you before you depart."

He only shook his head. "I am sure she will find it a relief that I am gone when she returns. No doubt it will at least ease her mind."

The sadness in his voice was immediately recognizable, though he tried so hard to disguise it with the cold ruse he put on.

"Do you think you owe me nothing?"

His head snapped up in surprise, his mouth slightly parting in confusion. "I- I did not realize that you expected payment."

"I do not." I knew I confused him, but it would at least detain him for a moment as my mind worked to find anything to my advantage.

He pulled his hand quickly from mine, as if he only just realized we were still touching. "I do not understand. What are you asking of me?"

"I… take me with you." I was surprised at myself, but it had been what I had originally wanted. I do not know what caused me to be so blunt, but I tried to pretend as if it had been what I intended to say in the first place. His eyes went from annoyance, to contemplation, to that damned coldness he always used to cover everything up.

"Why?" it was a simple enough question, but the meaning behind it made me nearly squeal in delight as a young school girl would. It nearly always meant the answer would be yes.

I tried to hide the smile that threatened to emerge. "I have always wanted to travel," I had never lied to directly in my life, but I found that I was very good at it, "and now is as good a time as any. If you are already going to travel, what does it matter?"

He stood stock-straight and I knew he was looking for a reason to say no. But I also knew that he couldn't. He **did **owe me, after all.

"Very well." I could hear a slight disappointment in his voice. "But only if you can pack lightly and be ready to depart by morning. And you should know that I will not hesitate to leave you behind."

"Where are we going?" a shiver of excitement ran through me, and now I did not hide the smile that came out.

"America."

**A/N: Hmmm… I wonder where this will lead. This idea just popped into my mind randomly while I worked on my first non-Phantom fanfic and I had to get it down.**

**I'm going to try to update again soon, but no promises, because I hate breaking them, especially to such lovely people as you all are(:**

**Oh, if anyone would be interested in beta reading this story for further chapters, PM me please. I desperately need someone to. As much as I like to think I can do it on my own, I just cant catch all my own errors.**

**And now, I beg yet again. Please review, pwetty pwetty pwease?**

**Haha, and thank you to everyone who did. Sorry if I didn't respond to you!**


	7. In Which the Journey Begins

I heard the footsteps outside my door again. He was pacing, always pacing. How impatient he was! He really couldn't expect me to dress as fast as he – I had far more to do! Ah, but I had to remember how little experience he had with women.

He pounded his fist loudly on the door, once, twice, three times, then called out, "If you do not hurry, I swear to God I will leave you here!"

I opened the door, finally ready. "Hmm, you are so impatient! Could you really not give me a moment?"

His shocked face finally turned to that cold look I knew so well. "Can we just be off already?"

I nodded, and he lifted my bags. I really hadn't expected it. I had thought he would make me carry them. Perhaps he was more of a gentleman than his attitude let on.

I followed him to find a brougham awaiting us outside. When he had arranged this I had no idea, but I knew better than to question. I really didn't want him to leave me here.

He set my bags in the luggage rack and opened the door for me. He did not offer his hand to help me in, but I still felt a strange sense of happiness come over me by this gesture. A warmness of sorts, I suppose.

When we settled in, he tapped the top of the brougham and we lurched forward, off on the journey that would promise me so much excitement. I couldn't help but smile dumbly.

He looked at me, watching me suspiciously before saying, "We are going to the nearest coast. When we arrive I expect you to be faster than you were, for we will have to catch a boat and it is the last traveling our way for the next three weeks."

I nodded my understanding, and he looked away to gaze out the window.

"Erik?"

He looked at me expectantly, nodding for me to continue.

"Thank you."

He just turned to look out the window again, choosing to ignore it.

"Erik?" I said again.

"What?" He replied through slightly clenched teeth, not bothering to look at me again. He didn't sound angry, just… I don't even really know what it was. I can't place a word on the tone.

"How long will the trip be?"

This time he looked at me, before stating, "We will arrive within the next two hours, then have to catch the boat within an hour. We will be on the boat for at least a month."

He smiled at the slightly frustrated look on my face, using it as his excuse to say something. "You can always stay behind."

"No, no I'm sure I will be fine," I smiled at the slightly disappointed look on his face, and we both returned to staring out our own windows.

A silence settled across us, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward. Just – quiet. It was actually quite calming, and that is about how the rest of the ride was spent.

When we finally arrived, my legs were so stiff that I could barely hold myself up. I silently hoped that I wouldn't be totally confined on the boat.

As we were walking, I stumbled and Erik caught me in his arms, helping me back to my feet. For some reason I blushed a crimson red, I could tell by the heat that rose to my cheeks. I was practically burning up.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, barely audibly among the throng of people. At first I had thought they were all staring at me, but then I remembered the mask. I wondered why he wasn't being more careful to conceal himself, but didn't bother questioning. We would be gone soon enough.

He made no response, instead grasping my hand and pulling me through the large crowd with him, now holding both of my bags in one hand. I was soon very grateful for this, as we would have almost been immediately separated. His grip was so tight it was almost painful as he practically dragged me behind him. At one point, I couldn't even see him through the tightly packed crowd of bodies.

I let out a sigh of relief when we finally pushed through the crowd, arriving at the large steam-boat. It was extremely tall, and rather foreboding. For a moment, I had a pang of fear and regret. I knew that if I got on that boat, I would never see my home again. The thought passed through my mind; I could turn back now. But no, I knew that I would regret it. And then I would never see Erik again. For some reason, that would upset me.

It seemed as if time slowed as we boarded the steamer. Every horrible thought that had never come now surfaced – what would I do when we arrived? Would he abandon me? I had a horrible fear of being alone. I never had been in my life – my mother and Christine had always been there as long as I could remember. There had never been a time in my life that there wasn't anyone I could go to… until now.

I was pulled back from my thoughts as I realized we were in a long hallway, obviously on the boat now. It was elegant, but not overly so. We were obviously in 2nd class.

Erik reached out and pushed open a door, revealing a pretty room. It had a large bed and a vanity with a pretty enough mirror. Everything was mahogany, including the wardrobe near the wall.

"This is where we will be staying," he said quietly.

Suddenly I was hit with another fear. There was only one bed… would I be forced to lie in the same bed with him? I didn't want to… but he also didn't deserve to be forced to the floor by my childishness.

He saw me eyeing the bed and cleared his throat. I glanced at him as he said, "You need not worry, I shall take the floor."

"Nonsense," I was speaking before I really thought anything over. "You will share the bed with me. There's no need – either way, there is no reason for you to be so uncomfortable and the floor must be awfully dirty."

He looked at me and opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again, thinking quickly. Then, opening it again, he said, "We will be leaving port shortly, and dinner is in a few hours. I am sure you would like to clean up?"

He pointed across the room at another door, "You will find everything you may need in there. I hope you will find it to your liking."

I fallowed his finger to find a full bathroom with running water. For a moment I wondered how much these boat tickets may have cost him, but quickly pushed it from my mind, running a bath and instead focusing on working the tenseness out of my stiff muscles.

I emerged feeling refreshed, and I dressed as quickly as I could. I was anxious to be out and able to stretch my legs again – I had been still for far too long.

**A/N: Sorry it's so short. I wanted to update a while ago, but I've just been so busy! But I'm not going to get into all that.**

**I'm going to post a new fic soon, so check it out if you have time.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!!**

**I'm so excited… next month I'm going to see Phantom live again... And I saw Moulin Rouge for the first time. It's amazing, you should check it out.**

**Anyway, please review and tell me what you thought!!**


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